


Step Up Or Step Out

by DeceitfulHonesty



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hip Hop, Humor, Teacher-Student Relationship, UST, dance teacher au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeceitfulHonesty/pseuds/DeceitfulHonesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite copious amounts of begging, Jemma is forced into ballroom dance lessons to prepare for Bobbi's wedding. The best case scenario is that Jemma will waste a few weeks of this poor dance teacher's life and get to sit at the bar at the wedding and avoid the dancing. Jemma wasn't expecting her dance teacher to be so intriguing though...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Bobbi, please don’t make me do this.”

  
“I am not having an awkward prom dancing at my wedding, especially not from my Maid of Honor. Plus, I already paid for the lessons,” Bobbi reasoned over the phone.

  
Jemma groaned. She stood in front of the building, which looked like an old warehouse that the owners refurbished. The brick facade stood out from the adjacent buildings because it was scrubbed clean and had a large mural painted over the doorway that read _Cavalry Dance Academy_ and had a silhouette of a dancer in the middle of a leap that Jemma believed to be physically impossible. Jemma was sorely tempted to turn around and go home.

  
“Come on, Jemma, it’s only for a few weeks,” Bobbi begged over the phone.

  
“Why does it have to be solo lessons, though? You know how am I around new people,” Jemma complained. She was trying not to sound like she was whining, but she really didn’t want to take dance lessons. She knew she had two left feet and was planning on sitting somewhere out of the way once the dancing at the wedding started. Of course, she had also seen Bobbi nearly tear a catalogue the size of a phonebook in half when the florist suggested it might be difficult to get hydrangeas this time of year, so Jemma should probably appease her.

  
“It’s not my fault you have such weird hours at work and can’t make our group sessions. I know that you’ll like your teacher at least. She’s an old friend of mine, so you know she’s cool,” Bobbi reassured.

  
That was a small comfort. Jemma groaned exaggeratedly. “Fine, but don’t expect me to suddenly be able to win _So You Think You Can Dance_ after this.”

  
Bobbi chuckled. “Hunter’s already failed most of his lessons, so trust me when I say I’m expecting the bare minimum.”

  
Jemma huffed. As long as she didn’t fall on her face at the wedding, that was all she needed. She said her goodbyes to Bobbi, took a deep breath, and stepped inside the dance studio.

  
The urban exterior disguised the atmosphere of the studio itself. A single, wide hallway extended from the front door and split off into four large open rooms. The walls were each painted a different, cheery pastel and mostly covered in various plaques and awards with stick figure dancers engraved on them. Scattered along the hall were trophy cases containing even more awards.

  
There was no reception desk or anyone milling about the hall, so Jemma shuffled down the hall and peered into each room, looking for the person who was supposed to be teaching her. The rooms that appeared to be the actual dance rooms were massive and brightly lit by enormous floor-to-ceiling windows with thin, airy curtains pulled across them to reduce the glare of the sun streaming through. At least one wall in each room was entirely covered with mirrors, making the already large rooms seem especially spacious. The floors were deep, shiny hardwood covered in scuff marks from likely many years of abuse by dancers.

  
Jemma finally registered the bass pounding through the walls and hoped that meant that there was someone in the building after all. She wandered in the direction of the music which was coming from one of the last rooms along the hall.

  
What she peered in on made her mouth run dry. The class in session appeared to be some advanced level hip hop class. There had to be at least thirty people in this class, plus a short Asian woman supervising from the front.

  
Jemma’s eyes weren’t on her, though. They were on the rest of the class.

  
The beat of the song was rapid and Jemma could hardly keep up with the movements of the dancers’ feet. They all added their own flair to the motions, but somehow remained completely in sync. In addition to the fancy footwork, there was a lot of….grinding. And thrusting. And in general just way too many suggestive movements. Not to mention, all the dancers were wearing various levels of tiny shirts and shorts. Jemma didn’t know if her gay little heart could take this.

  
And then they slid down to their knees and did a few more grinding maneuvers while running their hands through their hair and then suggestively down their bodies. Jemma felt like she was going to pass out.

  
The tempo of the song changed and the whole class seamlessly hopped back onto their feet and maneuvered into a different formation, leaving open space in the middle. A brunette woman with choppy shoulder-length hair twirled into the space, did some extraordinarily complicated looking mid-air corkscrew move, and slid effortlessly into a headstand supported by head elbows.

  
She held the pose for a moment, before somersaulting forward and spinning out of the way while a red-head slid into her place and did another series of complicated gymnastics. A few more of the dancers had their turns doing a solo bit, before the group came together and synchronized their motions again, the brunette from before standing front and center.

  
If Jemma thought she was unprepared before, she now knew she was.

  
Jemma was just about to turn around and run for the door, when the song hit a final beat and the group struck a pose. The stern-looking woman at the front who had been silently watching and pacing finally spoke up.

  
“We still need to tighten up those last five counts of eight before we’re ready for the competition, but everything else is coming along. We’ll do a refresher on the middle set next week, as well. Daisy?” the woman gestured towards one of the dancers, subtly dismissing the rest. The brunette who had the first solo jogged up to the woman and they started to discuss something quietly. As the rest of the dancers started to gather their bags, Jemma thought that she might be able to sneak out the door with them.

  
That idea went out the window when she saw the woman at the front point in her direction, catching her like a deer in the headlights. Jemma barely had time to brace herself before the brunette was trotting towards her, taking a brief moment to grab a duffel bag by the door.

  
“Hey. Are you Jemma Simmons?” the woman asked. Jemma just nodded and the woman stuck a hand out.

  
“Daisy. Bobbi said you’d be coming. She also warned me you might try to run,” Daisy teased. Jemma tried to be offended, but given that she was thinking about it moments before Daisy saw her, she supposed Bobbi knew her well enough.

  
“Well, I’m here now,” Jemma assured. It was too late to quit now.

  
Daisy smiled. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

  
Daisy strode across the hall to one of the large open studios and Jemma scrambled to follow her.

  
“So, um, Bobbi said I would be learning ballroom dance,” Jemma prodded.

  
“Yep,” Daisy replied, marching over to the massive stereo in the corner.

  
“Is that really a...specialty of yours?” Jemma didn’t want to sound rude, but she definitely wouldn't be doing the kind of dance she had just seen at Bobbi’s wedding.

  
“Yeah, I’ve been doing ballroom lessons for years,” Daisy assured while fiddling with the stereo.

  
“Really?” Jemma blurted.

  
Daisy glanced over at her with an amused expression. “I’m a jack of all trades. Want me to get my pointe shoes? I can do that, too.”  
Jemma toyed with the strap on her purse. “No, that’s alright I believe you. I’m just new to all this,” she muttered.

  
“Don’t worry about it. I get that a lot. So, I’m thinking we start simple. Probably a basic waltz, then maybe work in a bit of foxtrot—”

  
Jemma swore she was trying to pay attention to what she was saying, but suddenly Daisy was reaching for the hem of her loose fitting T-shirt and tugging it over her head while she spoke. Jemma quickly slapped a hand over her eyes and turned her back to Daisy.

  
“—if we have enough time, a little salsa’s always fun and— what are you doing?”

  
Jemma kept her eyes squeezed shut, even with her hand over them. “I wasn’t aware you were going to be changing. I figured I’d give you some privacy,” Jemma rambled.

  
“Wha— Oh, shit sorry. I’ve been around dancers for too long. Dancer’s have no shame,” Daisy explained. A few moments passed and Jemma heard Daisy shuffling around, “Alright, I’m decent. I figured you wouldn’t appreciate me keeping the sweaty shirt on.”

  
Jemma uncovered her eyes and turned back to face Daisy. She was wearing a different shirt and had pulled a long cord from the stereo and plugged the other end into her phone and was flicking through it.

  
“So, Bobbi’s getting hitched again?” Daisy asked.

  
“Apparently. She insists that it’s going to stick this time,” Jemma stated.

  
“So who’s the lucky person?”

  
“Do you know Lance Hunter?”

  
Daisy’s eyes shot up to Jemma’s and she nearly dropped her phone. “No fucking way. Hunter?”

  
“I take it you know him?” Jemma wondered.

  
“Yeah. I was there when Bobbi threw him off a moving boat in the middle of the ocean and said she wanted to watch him get eaten by sharks,” Daisy said with an amused expression. That sounded like something Bobbi would do. Jemma knew that her and Hunter had an on-again-off-again relationship in the past, but according to Bobbi, they were past all that.

  
Daisy finally decided on a song and placed her phone on top of the stereo before sidling up to Jemma with a hand outstretched.  
“Enough small talk for now. Shall we get to work?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Don’t look at you feet, look at your partner,” Daisy scolded lightly. Jemma hardly noticed her gaze flicking back to her feet repeatedly. Three lessons in and she was finally getting the hang of the waltz. It was only three steps, so Jemma didn’t think she should be too proud of that fact. Daisy decided to spare her the finer details of the waltz and just stick with the basics. Jemma still stumbled a bit on some of the turns, but as far as she was concerned, she was meeting Bobbi’s minimal dance skill standards.

  
Daisy didn’t seem to want to let her off with that, though. They had decided to meet for lessons twice a week, after Jemma got off work. Jemma had no idea how much of Daisy’s time Bobbi had paid for, but Jemma was fairly certain over two hours each was a bit excessive for lesson times. Not that she was complaining much. It was hard work, but at least it was enjoyable. The company was good at least.

  
“Well, I don’t think anyone else at a wedding is going to have too much waltz experience, so we can probably stop on the basics,” Daisy informed Jemma, dropping her hands and bouncing over to change the song, “Ready to start on some salsa?”

  
Jemma groaned loudly. “Bobbi warned me about this day.”

  
Daisy looked mock offended. “Just because she can’t salsa to save her life, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know it. In fact, now I’m going to make sure you can salsa better than her at her own wedding.”

  
Jemma rolled her eyes and tapped her feet while waiting for Daisy to pick a song. After their first lesson, where Jemma had shown up in her lab-approved, slip resistant shoes, Daisy had insisted on buying Jemma a pair of “ballroom dance appropriate shoes.” After thoroughly making fun of her choices of dancing attire that is.

  
Jemma took it upon herself to get some decent exercise clothes after that that were a bit more snug than Jemma would normally wear, but they were easy to move in. Plus, she looked really good in them.

  
“Here we go,” Daisy announced triumphantly, finally selecting a song, “Have you ever been skydiving?”

  
Jemma raised an eyebrow at the question, until she heard the music start crooning about parachutes. She wrinkled her nose.

  
“Actually, yes. Not a good experience,” Jemma admitted.

  
“Really? Didn’t take you for an adrenaline junkie,” Daisy commented.

  
“Believe me, it was not my idea.”

  
“Huh. Well, it’s a good song to salsa to, anyway,” Daisy said with a shrug, “and no matter what Bobbi says, it’s really not that complicated.”

  
Daisy hopped into position standing beside Jemma.

  
“Alright, so this is technically an eight-beat dance, but it’s two counts of four that are just opposites and beats four and eight are rests. Alright so far?” Daisy started.

  
“Yes, I think I can manage counting to eight,” Jemma quipped.

  
“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re Miss I Have More College Degrees Than Limbs,” Daisy teased.

  
Jemma rolled her eyes. “I only have two.”

  
“Well, I’m scraping by with a GED, so forgive me for starting slow,” Daisy replied with a wink, “So, as usual, you’re going to start with your right foot. You’re going to take a step back, and then do a step in place with your left foot, and then step back together. That’s beats one, two, three, and then you rest on four. Good so far?”

  
Jemma followed along as Daisy demonstrated the first set of steps and nodded. She didn’t know what Bobbi was talking about; so far this wasn’t so bad.

  
“Good. Then, we’re gonna go forward with our left foot, but do the same thing for five, six, seven, rest on eight. Easy enough right?” Daisy continued.

  
“I’m just waiting for the scary part,” Jemma admitted.

  
Daisy smiled. “There is no scary part, I promise. Want to try with a partner?”

  
Jemma nodded, while mentally going over the steps again. Just to be sure. Daisy stepped in front of her and Jemma moved into the “ballroom hold” position that Daisy had taught her at their first lesson: left hand on the lead’s shoulder blade, right hand cupped in their left, plenty of space to look down at her feet between them.

  
Daisy chuckled. “You know, this is salsa right?”

  
Of course Jemma knew that. She furrowed her brow in confusion. Before she could comment, Daisy tugged her forwards so they were chest to chest and almost bumping noses.

  
“Don’t worry,” Daisy muttered into Jemma’s ear, “I don’t bite.”

  
Oh. This is what Bobbi was warning her about. Daisy slowly started to lead her in the steps. Thankfully, she started them with a song with a slower beat, because Jemma was having a hard time concentrating.

  
Daisy was extremely warm and smelled like flowers, which was surprising because they had been dancing for nearly an hour already. Jemma was sure she was gross and rubbing her sweat all over Daisy’s shirt right now.

  
Unfortunately, there was no space to look at her feet in this position. Jemma’s only options for places to look were at Daisy’s boobs or directly into her eyes. Not that the second option was a bad one, but Jemma tended to lose any train of thought when she caught Daisy’s gaze.

  
Jemma stumbled a bit and stomped on Daisy’s foot, distracted by her wandering mind.

  
“Sorry,” Jemma muttered, suddenly finding herself very interested in Daisy’s collarbone.

  
Daisy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not the first time I’ve been stepped on.”

  
Jemma tried to distract herself by counting her steps. Once they got into a rhythm, it was easy enough to keep up.

  
“So, how did you end up teaching here?” Jemma asked. Small talk would surely get her mind off the warm body pressed against her own.

  
“I used to do some street dancing to try to make a few bucks. Dancing’s always been something I enjoyed and was good at, I guess. Then, one day, I ran into May, the owner of this place, who said I had a lot of potential and she offered to give me ‘real dance lessons’ if I would teach at her new studio,” Daisy explained, guiding them into a gradual turn.

  
“How did you end up doing street dancing?” Jemma asked.

  
Daisy shrugged. “I didn’t have a lot of career options as an underage foster home runaway.”

  
“Oh,” Jemma muttered. Now, she felt like a jerk for prying into Daisy’s personal life.

  
“It sucked at the time, but at least something good came out of it,” Daisy replied, “I get paid for doing my favorite thing everyday.”

  
Jemma smiled at that. She admired Daisy’s optimism and upbeat personality.

  
“Out of curiosity, where did the name come from?” Jemma asked. ‘The Cavalry’ seemed like an odd name for a dance studio.

  
Daisy grimaced. “I picked it out. I almost got fired for it, actually.”

  
“What?”

  
“It’s kind of an inside joke,” Daisy explained. She turned them slightly so she was facing the door and seemed to be searching for someone listening in before she continued. “A few years back, May and her dance troop qualified to go to this giant international competition. After flying halfway around the world, the rest of her team got talked into joining a competing studio’s troop the night before they were supposed to perform. The condition was they would have to drop out of the competition, though. Instead of just bailing, May went on as a soloist in all of their time slots, completely unprepared, and still swept every category. She sort of became a legend after that and the story gets more dramatic every time people tell it, but she always gets the nickname the Cavalry.”

  
Jemma gaped. She had seen May around the studio, but never in action. All the trophies covering the walls made more sense now.   
“I had the sign made without asking her, so she was pretty pissed. It’s still a touchy subject with her,” Daisy admitted, “Luckily, May’s the forgiving type in some cases, so she let me off the hook.”

  
“Wow,” Jemma breathed, “That’s an impressive story.”

  
Daisy smirked. “And I told you the true version. If you asked Natasha, she would have told you half of May’s numbers were done on horseback.”

  
Jemma chuckled. “That I would have a harder time believing. So, do you strictly teach?”

  
“Mostly. Occasionally, I go to competitions with my group. We’ve got one coming up in a few months, actually, which is what we were working on the first day you came in,” Daisy said.

  
Jemma remembered that. Vividly.

  
The song ended and faded into something with an entirely different beat.

  
“I think you’ve got a hang of the basic step. Ready to pick up the pace?” Daisy pulled away with a smirk and trotted over to the stereo again. She quickly picked a song and bounced back to Jemma once the trumpets started blaring.

  
“Is this ‘Living La Vida Loca?’” Jemma asked.

  
“Yes it is. It was either this or Hips Don’t Lie,” Daisy grinned, shimmying up to Jemma, “Think you can keep up?”

  
Jemma gulped, but took Daisy’s hands and allowed herself to be tugged back into position. The conversation lulled as Jemma was fully concentrating on moving her feet to keep up with the now, grueling pace.

  
Luckily, Daisy was excellent at leading, otherwise Jemma would not have been able to keep up. Without warning, Daisy would spin Jemma out with one arm and back in or change the direction they were moving in. With the slight pressure of Daisy’s hand on the middle of her back, Jemma could always tell where she was going to move them next. Jemma only stumbled once and Daisy corrected her stance to balance them better.

  
“You’re like a salsa natural,” Daisy said, once the song started to fade.

  
Jemma felt her cheeks heat up. “Please. I would have fallen on my face if you weren’t holding me up.”

  
They stopped moving as they realized the song had faded into something far too slow to salsa to. Daisy made no move to let go. Jemma shifted her gaze up to meet Daisy’s and found herself locked in Daisy’s brown eyes. Jemma must have imagined that Daisy’s eyes flicked to her lips for a moment.

  
The spell was broken by a slight knock. Jemma dropped her arms from around Daisy and spun to face the door. May casually leaned against the doorframe, eyeing them both curiously.

  
“Hey, May. Uh, what’s up?” Daisy stuttered out.

  
For a moment, May said nothing while she glanced between Jemma and Daisy. “I wanted to go over some details on the competition before you leave for the night. I assumed you finished up your lessons awhile ago.”

  
Jemma glanced down at her watch. They had been practicing for nearly three hours and neither of them had realized it.

  
“I really should be going anyway. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late,” Jemma said, “I’ll see you next week?”

  
“Oh, uh. Yeah definitely. Same time Tuesday,” Daisy agreed.

  
Jemma gathered her things and scurried out the door, doing her best not to make eye contact with May on her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized why this is so hard to write... I go on youtube and watch a bunch of dance tutorials to get myself motivated, but then I get up and start trying to learn the freaking dances. Ugh. Oh well, I got another chapter out!   
> Follow my writing tumblr~ sad-trash-writing


	3. Chapter 3

    “So, lessons are going well, then?” Bobbi asked.

  
    Jemma perched on the plush antique couch in the dress shop. She had a feeling it was meant for more decoration than functionality, but her feet were still killing her from her last lesson with Daisy and she couldn’t stand all day.

  
    “I haven’t broken anything yet, so I’d say so,” Jemma replied.

  
    Bobbi huffed a quick laugh and went back to fiddling with her hair, while they waited for the saleswoman to come back with Bobbi’s dress.

  
    “I can’t decide if I should have my hair down or up,” Bobbi muttered, “Up would be more functional, right?”

  
    Jemma rolled her eyes. “It’s for a wedding, it doesn’t have to be functional.”

  
    “Good point. So, what do you think about Daisy?”

  
    That was a difficult question to answer. “She’s...nice. She seems very knowledgeable.”

  
    “Uh-huh.” Bobbi eyed her suspiciously. “That’s it? Nice and knowledgeable?”

  
    “What do you want me to say? She’s a very good dancer, very patient, seems determined to wear the least amount of clothes possible, she has a nice smile and…”

  
    Jemma trailed off, noticing Bobbi shoot her a wide grin. “What?”

  
    “You totally have a crush on Daisy,” she accused.

  
    Jemma sputtered in protest, but she could feel her face heating up, which was probably not helping her case.

  
    “I knew you’d like her. She’s completely your type,” Bobbi replied triumphantly.

  
    Before Jemma could protest any more, the saleswoman reappeared, hauling Bobbi’s sparkling monstrosity of a dress, effectively distracting her from anything Jemma had to say.

  
    Without a thought, Bobbi stripped down to her underwear to try it on. Jemma pointedly glanced away. What is it with her and associating with women who are perfectly comfortable being nearly naked in public? Granted, they were technically in a private room here, but it was still rather open.

  
    “What were you saying about totally not having a crush on your dance teacher?” Bobbi asked, while the saleswoman laced her into the dress.

  
    “I don’t!” Jemma exclaimed. “She’s just a very good teacher.”

  
    She could tell Bobbi didn’t believe her. Hell, she didn’t believe herself.

  
    “Well, if you want to bring her to the wedding as your totally platonic, not-date, I marked you down for a plus one.”

  
    “I thought I RSVP’d for just me,” Jemma said.

  
    “You did. It’s just in case you found someone to test those new dance skills with.”

  
    Jemma groaned. “You’re unbelievable. It would never work, even if I did have a crush on her. Which I don’t. She’s probably not even—” She trailed off with a wave of her hand, letting Bobbi figure out the rest.

  
    “Has she ever told you how we met?” Bobbi asked, adjusting the top of her dress now that it was laced up.

  
    “You and Daisy? No, we don’t talk much.”

  
    Bobbi made a suggestive motion while the saleswoman wasn’t looking. Jemma grabbed a fake bouquet off a nearby table and hurled it at Bobbi’s head, earning herself a glare from the saleswoman.

  
    “So, how did you and Daisy meet?” Jemma muttered, playing along.

  
    Bobbi pulled a thoughtful look for a moment. “You should ask Daisy. It’s a fun story.”

  
    “Then why don’t you just tell me?”

  
    “Because she tells it better. Just ask her next time you see her.”

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
    The typical thumping bass of hip-hop music greeted Jemma as she walked through the dance studio to their typical practice room. She hoisted her duffle bag with her change of clothes further onto her shoulder and marched through the throngs of dancers wandering the halls. When she arrived at the typically empty classroom, Jemma noticed the trill of upbeat piano music drifting into the halls. That was something different.

  
    Jemma peered into the room, not wanting to disturb the lessons. The wide open space was filled with rows of barres dotted with tiny girls in pink leotards and tights. Daisy stood in front of the mirror-lined wall in her own tiny pink shoes, miming holding onto her own barre and calling out directions.

  
    “Tendu, close front Tendu, close back. Remember, arms relaxed, back straight. Tendu front—”

  
    Daisy caught sight of Jemma and gave her a small smile and wave without breaking rhythm. Immediately, twenty small, bun-adorned heads whipped in Jemma’s direction.

  
    “Hey! We’ve got five minutes left, eyes on me,” Daisy corrected gently. “Now, pliés. Demi, demi, grande—Kayla, stop picking your nose.”

  
    Jemma chuckled and watched Daisy work fondly. Daisy did say she was a ‘jack of all trades’ when Jemma first questioned her teaching ability. Apparently, she wasn’t exaggerating. Jemma felt a strange warm sensation building up in her chest, while watching Daisy move around the room and nudge the children into the correct postures. She immediately thought back to her conversation with Bobbi while she did her best to squash the feeling. Bobbi didn’t know what she was talking about.

  
    “Alright, that’s it for today. Don’t forget, we’re fitting costumes next week,” Daisy announced. The little girls darted for the bags that lined the walls and plopped on the floor to change their shoes. Daisy flipped off the music and started pulling the barres to the sides of the room. Jemma tossed her bag in a free corner and jogged over to help.

  
    “Need a hand?” she asked, grabbing the free end of a barre.

  
    Daisy smiled and hoisted her end onto her shoulder. “You should show up early on Tuesdays more often.”

  
    “Well, now I know you’ll be moving large equipment, I think I’ll show up late,” Jemma teased. They placed the barre along the wall and went back for the next one. One of the pink-clad students bounced over to Daisy and tugged on the end of her shirt to get her attention.

  
    “Is this your girlfriend? She’s really pretty,” the little girl whispered.

  
    Daisy barked out a laugh that, to Jemma, sounded forced, and tousled the little girl’s hair. “Ha! Oh, Stacy. You’re cute. You—I—I think you’re mom’s waiting for you outside.” She awkward shoved the little girl towards the door. “Kids, right? So funny,” Daisy chuckled and shrugged. Jemma noticed a slight blush creeping up the back of her neck as she turned away.

  
    The kids were gradually picked up by their parents while Jemma and Daisy finished clearing the floor. Once they were alone, Daisy clapped her hands together and got a mischievous grin on her face.

  
    “I’m thinking we’re going to do swing today.”

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
    Thirty minutes later, Jemma collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily, but smiling. Daisy grabbed a water bottle and strolled over to Jemma’s bag to grab hers as well before joining Jemma on the floor.

  
    “I don’t know how you do this all day, every day. It’s exhausting,” Jemma said, taking a long drink from her water.

  
    “I’ve built up a lot of stamina over the years,” Daisy replied with a wink. “But it’s fun, right?”

  
    Jemma nodded emphatically.

  
    “Good. Swing is really good for fast-paced songs, so you get some variety. Ready for another go?”

  
    Jemma groaned over-dramatically, but pushed herself to her feet and took Daisy’s offered hand. Daisy muttered a countdown under her breath and then started moving through the steps. Jemma picked up quickly, mirroring her steps.

  
    At this point, Jemma was confident enough in her motions that she didn’t need to look at her feet anymore, which she counted as a success in itself. She still tried to count the number of steps in each motion, despite Daisy’s attempts to distract her from doing that. She said dancing was more about ‘feeling the music’ than getting all the steps right, and that a good partner would be able to keep up no matter how wrong the steps were.

  
    Daisy was definitely a good partner. She could tell where Jemma’s feet were going before Jemma even started to move them. Jemma supposed that was a skill borne of years of getting stepped on by amateur dancers.

  
    Jemma managed to keep up with every twirl and change of direction Daisy ran them through. Daisy would guide Jemma out for a spin and Jemma would spin out and slide back in with more grace than even she thought she was capable of. Every completed turn was rewarded with a smile from Daisy that made the whole room seem brighter and caused Jemma’s heart to squeeze pleasantly.

  
    The song faded into one with a slightly slower beat and Daisy effortlessly changed their pace to match. As they rotated again, the sun from the windows glinted off Daisy’s eyes, making them almost appear golden and Jemma felt out of breath again.

  
    Bobbi’s words echoed in her heard again. She did not have a crush on her definitely-straight dance instructor. She also remembered what Bobbi told her to ask Daisy and hoped it would get her mind off things.

  
    “Bobbi said,” Jemma started between turns, “that you two have a very interesting story of how you met.”

  
    “Oh. Uh, she didn’t tell you?” Daisy asked.

  
    “No, she insisted you told it better,” Jemma grumbled.

  
    “Huh. Well, it’s not too exciting. We, uh, used to hook up.”

  
    Jemma tripped over her own foot and she pitched forward. Daisy blurted a ‘whoa!’ and then slid Jemma into a perfect dip.

  
    “Uh, was it that startling?” Daisy peered down at her with concern.

  
    Jemma gaped. “I-I didn’t know that you were— or that _she_ was— when was this?”

  
    Daisy tugged Jemma back to her feet and slipped into a simple waltz. “Uh, a few years ago now. I think it was during one of her many break ups with Hunter. We met at a karaoke bar and we both picked the same song to sing, so we just decided to do a duet. After that we sort of had a friends-with-benefits situation, and once she got back with Hunter, we stayed friends.”

  
    Jemma’s mind was reeling. She was not as much concerned with the new information on Bobbi as she was the tiny voice cheering in her head for some reason.

  
    “Bobbi Morse, always full of surprises,” Jemma muttered.

  
    “I assumed she told you! I didn’t mean to out anyone,” Daisy replied, looking abashed.

  
    “She did tell me to ask, so she probably planned this, honestly.” In fact, she probably just wanted a way for Jemma to know that Daisy played for her team, rather than caring about her knowing the rest of the story. Well played, Barbara.

  
    “This isn’t going to make things weird, right?” Daisy asked hesitantly.

  
    “Of course not. Actually, um, I—”

  
    Jemma was cut off by the insistent trilling of her phone from across the room. She sighed in relief slightly. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she was about to say to Daisy, but she was spared by having to run over to pick up her phone. Surprisingly, the call was from Hunter.

  
    She hit the little green button to answer and immediately heard a crash and loud series of curses in Bobbi’s voice.

  
    “Hunter? What’s—”

  
    “We’ve got an 0-8-4. I repeat, an 0-8-4. Requesting immediate Maid of Honor assistance,” Hunter frantically muttered into the phone. Bobbi’s cursing seemed to redirect itself to Hunter and the line went dead.

  
    “What’s an 0-8-4?” Daisy asked.

  
    “A wedding emergency of unknown origin. Hunter tried to deal with the last one alone and accidentally cancelled the caterer,” Jemma explained. “I’m sorry to cut out early, but I really need to—”

  
    “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure Bobbi’s a total bridezilla.” Daisy waved her off. “See you on Friday still?”

  
    “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look who's finally updating this! I sort of forgot about this one while working on my other stuff. Oops, sorry dudes.


	4. Chapter 4

For the first time ever, it was dark when Jemma arrived at the dance studio. A quick text from Daisy earlier asked Jemma to come a few hours later because of a last minute lesson she said would likely run late. The brief message was followed by five exasperated looking emojis and a few of the little poops as well, which made Jemma burst out laughing at work.

  
Most of the typical noise and bustle of the studio was absent at this hour. The only person Jemma saw as she walked down the hall was the owner, May, who stalked into her office looking livid. Jemma shuffled a bit more quickly towards their typical practice room and peered through the open doorway to see if the last lesson was over.

  
A sultry, rock song blared over the speakers as Daisy and the other person twirled around the room. Once there was a pause in the spinning, Jemma could make out the muscular form and chiseled jaw of the dark-haired man twirling Daisy with one hand. The pair moved again, pressed chest to chest, hands wrapped tightly around each other.

  
Jemma’s heart clenched and she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t get her eyes to move. This certainly looked more intimate than typical dance lessons should be. Every time Daisy spun out and back in, the man seemed to pull her in tighter, leaning so close their foreheads were nearly touching.

  
The song dragged on for far too long, in Jemma’s opinion. Every twist and turn made Jemma’s chest ache as she realized she never had a chance with Daisy. All Bobbi’s plotting was a waste.

  
The song finally pounded out the last few beats of the bass and the man dipped Daisy so low she was nearly touching the ground, with one leg hooked around his waist. They held the pose as the music faded out completely, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing. After a few moments, the man pulled Daisy up from her position, but still held her close.

  
Jemma was about to turn down the hallway, to avoid intruding on their private moment, when Daisy did something unexpected.

  
She shoved him away.

  
Daisy was glaring at the man as she took a few steps away from him. Her voice was low so Jemma couldn't hear what was being said, but it seemed to be a dismissal. Jemma heard the low rumble of the man’s voice in response, but whatever he said Daisy waved him off and moved to turn off the stereo.

  
She was jerked to a halt by the man grabbing her arm roughly and jerking her back towards him, while he hissed something in her ear.

  
Now, Jemma really didn’t like this man. She stepped fully into the room and dropped her bag (with a bit more force than was strictly necessary), while glaring daggers at the man.

  
Two heads whipped in her direction at the noise. The man didn’t seem too perturbed by Jemma’s presence, but reluctantly released Daisy’s arm.

  
“As you can see, my next lesson is here and you’re already over on time. I’m going to have to charge you for the extra time,” Daisy said, feigning impassive professionalism.

  
“Come on, Skye. Don’t I get a ‘regulars’ discount?” the man asked, with an attempt at a charming smile. Jemma could see right through it.

  
“No,” Daisy replied flatly. “If you have a complaint you could always take it up with May.” The suggestion seemed innocent enough, but Daisy’s tone made it seem like a threat.

  
The man’s face darkened. “I’ll call you when I need another lesson.”

  
“Great,” Daisy grumbled sarcastically.

  
The man sauntered out of the room without another word, but gave Jemma an appraising glance as he left which Jemma responded to with an even deeper glare. Once she was sure he was out of the room, Jemma turned her attention back to Daisy.

  
Daisy had gone over to the stereo and was now muttering to herself while flipping through songs. Her back was to Jemma and her posture was stiff. Jemma could see her free hand was gripping the shelf the stereo rested on tightly enough that her knuckles were white.

  
Jemma walked silently to the center of the room and waited for Daisy. She had so many questions, but whatever just happened seemed too personal for Jemma to pry into.

  
After a few minutes, Jemma shifted uncomfortably where she stood. Daisy hadn’t let a song play for more than a second, before angrily clicking to the next one and grumbling to herself.

  
“Um...Daisy? Are you alright?” Jemma asked, barely speaking above a whisper.

  
Daisy jerked a bit, as if she forgot that Jemma was there, but didn’t turn around. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice cracked a bit and Jemma had the sudden urge to run over and hug her.

  
“If you’d like to reschedule, I can—” Jemma started to suggest.

  
“No! No, it’s fine, really,” Daisy finally faced her. “Ward just always makes me go a little crazy.”

  
Jemma nodded. “Is he—”

  
“An ex. From a long time ago,” Daisy explained. “It ended pretty badly.”

  
“Oh. Why is he here, then?”

  
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Because he’s a paying customer, so I have to give him lessons. And he can’t take no for an answer.”

  
“Couldn’t May do something? If he really makes you uncomfortable, she should be able to keep him from coming back.”

  
Daisy rubbed her arm where Ward had grabbed her. “She could ban him from coming back, but I don’t want to make a scene. He doesn’t come by often, so it’s not a big deal.”

  
Jemma frowned. She wanted to grab Daisy and tell her it was okay to ‘make a scene’ and get someone else involved if it meant getting rid of that creep, but she bit her tongue. Hell, Jemma would throw his butt to the curb herself if Daisy gave her the word. Of course she was a bit biased, but from what she had seen of Ward, she wasn’t a fan.

  
“Who’s Skye?” Jemma hoped that was a safe enough question.

  
Daisy smirked. “It’s the name I used to go by, a long time ago. Everyone _else_ stopped using it once I asked them to.”

  
Jemma didn’t know how to respond to that. It struck Jemma how little she actually knew about Daisy and it frustrated her. She suddenly wanted to know everything about her past, present, and future.

  
Daisy didn’t seem to mind Jemma’s lack of response. She had started absentmindedly twirling around the room, muttering through a list of dances they could work on and deciding against all of them. Her movements became increasingly sharp and frustrated and she fisted a hand in her hair. She finally froze and spun back to where Jemma waited.

  
“How would you feel about having our lesson in the field tonight?”

  
“I’m sorry, what?”

  
“I feel a little stir crazy. Ward ruined this place for the night and I just need to get out,” Daisy replied. “I know the DJ and bartender at a club down the street, so we could still do some dancing there.”

  
Daisy’s eyes lit up in a way that Jemma hadn’t seen all night, so she found it hard to say no. “I don’t think I’m really dressed for a club,” Jemma protested weakly, glancing down at her plain tank top and tight work out pants.

  
Daisy bounced over to her duffle bag and rummaged around for a moment. When she straightened up, she had pulled out a sheer sparkly shirt and tossed it at Jemma. “Here. Just throw that over your shirt.”

  
Jemma held up the flimsy shirt (if you could call it that) and made a face at it, but after seeing Daisy’s hopeful expression, she sighed and slipped it over her head. It fit loosely, so the fabric floated around Jemma every time she moved, catching the light on each piece of glitter. It wasn’t something she would normally wear ( _ever_ ), but it would do for tonight.

  
Daisy shot her a wide smile. “There, you look beautiful.”

  
Jemma tried not to blush at the nonchalant compliment, and tactfully turned away when Daisy tugged off her shirt to change into something shimmery as well.

  
“So,” Daisy said, once she was ready, “ready to test your skills?”

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Jemma could feel the pounding bass vibrating the air before they even reached the club’s door. The bouncer at the door seemed to recognize Daisy and waved them through without a word.

  
Lights in every color flashed off the wall in time with the beat of the song that Jemma could feel pounding in her chest. Daisy grabbed her by the arm and directed her through the crowd towards the bar.

  
They were about halfway to the bar, when the volume of the song was cranked down mid-verse.

  
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a deep voice rang over the speakers, “May I present the groundbreaker herself.”

  
A few confused murmurs nearly drowned out Daisy’s loud groan as she glared over at the DJ’s elevated platform. The previous song faded out and was replaced by a techno-like song about earthquakes.

  
A tall, very attractive man hopped down from the booth and jogged over to where Daisy and Jemma stood, his wide grin lighting up the dark room as he pulled Daisy in for a tight hug.

  
Once he released her, she punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Why do you have to embarrass me every time I come in here, Trip?”

  
The man, Trip, just laughed and shrugged. “Come on, girl. Tell me you don’t love having a theme song when you walk into this building.”  
“Okay, yeah, but you don’t have to announce it.”

  
Jemma shifted awkwardly behind Daisy, while the pair chuckled at their inside joke. Trip finally spotted her over Daisy’s shoulder and pushed around her to introduce himself.

  
“Antoine Triplett,” he said extending a hand with a charming smile. “Just call me Trip, though.”

  
“Um...Jemma Simmons.”

  
“Oh, you’re Jemma Simmons,” Trip replied, shooting Daisy a knowing smile. Jemma quirked an eyebrow at her, hoping for an explanation, but Daisy just punched Trip in the arm again and frowned at him. “So what brings you guys out here tonight?”

  
“Who typically drives me to drink?”

  
Trip grimaced. “Again? Man, I hate that guy. Want me to beat him up?”

  
Daisy waved him off. “It’s not a big deal,” she muttered.

  
Trip pulled an expression similar to the one Jemma had had earlier, like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Jemma decided she would get along well with Trip.

  
“Well, regardless, I’m glad you’re here. This place is dead tonight,” Trip replied, gesturing to the crowd. Sure enough, most of the people milling about were standing around tables, sipping their drinks and swaying in place. The only people on the dance floor were an older couple who were awkwardly grinding in the middle of the floor and seemed to be making everyone around them uncomfortable.

  
“I could probably liven it up,” Daisy said. “Let me get a drink and then play something decent.”

  
Trip smirked and headed back to the DJ booth. “When do I play anything that’s _not_ decent?”

  
Jemma trailed after Daisy as she headed towards the bar.

  
“First round’s on me,” Daisy announced with a smirk.

  
Jemma protested, “You don’t have to do that. I can—”

  
“I was kidding. Sort of. I mean, I get free drinks here, so technically, all the rounds are on me,” Daisy clarified.

  
“Hey, Tremors,” the bartender greeted. Jemma had never used the phrase ‘built like a brick wall’ to describe anyone, but this man personified the descriptor.

  
Daisy groaned and flopped on the bar. “Not you, too, Mack.”

  
Mack chuckled and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, it’s a funny story.”

  
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Are you going to make us beg for drinks?”

  
“Given that you’re not paying for them, I might,” Mack teased. “What’ll it be?”

  
Daisy’s gaze turned to Jemma, nodding for her to order first.

  
“Gin and tonic,” she muttered.

  
“And I’ll have Sex on the Beach,” Daisy announced. Jemma was extremely glad that she hadn’t gotten her drink yet, or she might have choked on it.

  
Mack rolled his eyes and went to mix up their drinks. Jemma perched on a nearby barstool while they waited.

  
“I’m curious,” Jemma started, “What’s the story behind all the earthquake jokes?”

  
Daisy sighed over-dramatically, but had a good-natured smirk across her lips. “It’s dumb, really. I invited Trip to come see me perform in a competition in California and, halfway through my first number, there was an earthquake. Now, he keeps telling everyone that I’ve got an ass that causes natural disasters.”

  
Jemma snorted a laugh at the story, but she couldn’t refute Trip’s claim; she had seen Daisy’s ass in yoga pants.

  
Mack slid their drinks across the bar. Daisy’s turned out to be a colorful, fruity concoction that probably contained way too much sugar.

They sipped their drinks in silence until the song Trip was playing faded into the opening notes of ‘Uptown Funk.’  “That’s my cue,” Daisy announced with a wink. “Feel free to join me.”

  
She pushed back from the bar and strutted into the middle of the dance floor. A few of the awkward-looking people loitering on the edges of the dance floor turned to look at her.

  
As the lyrics started, Daisy started moving. The moves looked like part of a choreographed number, but they were looser and more casual. Daisy’s eyes lit up and she had a cheeky grin plastered on her face as she was suddenly in her element. Jemma could have watched her all night. She hardly noticed that the other patrons were starting to creep onto the floor around Daisy. Jemma was too distracted by watching Daisy’s hips swaying and her feet flying across the floor.

  
Jemma finished off her gin and tonic and was surprised to find another one already in its place. Mack tossed her a casual wave from down the bar.

  
By the time Jemma turned around, the floor was now full of dancers, mostly men trying to get close to Daisy. Jemma was grateful for the extra alcohol, when the burn of jealousy started to rise up in her chest. She quickly drowned it with a gulp of her drink and went back to watching Daisy.

  
The encroaching crowd couldn’t even keep Jemma’s eyes off her. With the floor now full, Daisy movements were more restricted, but she lost none of her enthusiasm. Her hips rocked in time with the beat and she rolled her shoulders with her glowing smile still fixed on her lips.

  
A small burst of anger would rise up in Jemma every time one of the men on the floor would get a little too close or let his hands roam a little too low on Daisy’s body. Daisy always managed to gracefully slide out of their grasp before Jemma could launch herself over to the floor.

  
A few of the more confident men sidled up next to Daisy and attempted to challenge her to a dance off. She humored them all, letting them have their turn in the center of the floor. If anyone was keeping score, Daisy would have beaten all of them. She toned down some of the more complicated moves that Jemma knew she was capable of, but still showed that she had the unfair advantage of years of dance training.

  
By her fourth gin and tonic, Jemma was starting to feel the alcohol buzzing through her veins. Daisy occasionally would beckon to Jemma to come to the floor, but her butt remained firmly rooted to the barstool. She was perfectly content to watch Daisy dance her heart out the entire night. Daisy apparently had other plans.

  
“Hey, you ever going to come out?” Daisy’s voice called from behind Jemma.

  
“Well, I—”

  
“Don’t even tell me you can’t dance, because I know that’s not true,” Daisy scolded.

  
Jemma tried to think of another rebuttal, but her hazy mind was distracted by the flush on Daisy’s cheeks and the shine of her eyes. Daisy gestured to Mack, before turning her attention back to Jemma. Jemma was considering getting up to dance, but she suddenly wanted to drag her feet even more if it would keep Daisy’s attention fixed on her.

  
The song shifted to something upbeat and pop-y and Daisy’s face glowed like a child on Christmas morning.

  
“Come on, this is my favorite song in the world. You have to dance with me,” Daisy pleaded. Jemma was pretty sure Daisy could have passionately hated this song, but would pretend she liked it to get Jemma out on the dance floor with her.

  
Daisy suddenly thrust a shot under Jemma’s nose and held up a matching one of her own. Jemma couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but the smell alone burnt the inside of her nose.

  
“Ugh, what on earth is in that?” Jemma grimaced, but took the glass from Daisy.

  
Daisy smirked triumphantly. “Tequila. Be thankful, I almost got you a Blow Job.”

  
Jemma actually choked this time and nearly spilled her shot. Daisy chuckled and raised her glass to Jemma’s with a ‘cheers’ before throwing it back and grimacing at the burn. Jemma copied her.

  
She barely even finished the shot before Daisy dragged her out her seat towards the floor.

  
“I’m not very good at ‘club dancing’—” Jemma protested.

  
“Then let’s swing,” Daisy replied with a smirk.

  
“I—”

  
“Hey, Jemma.” Daisy spun to face her and Jemma realized they were now squarely in the middle of the dance floor. “Shut and dance with me.”

  
Jemma rolled her eyes at Daisy’s attempt at a joke, but slipped into the starting position for swing. Daisy wasted no time and started spinning them around the floor as much as they could. Jemma easily fell into step, which was surprisingly easier than normal with the alcohol in her system.

  
The crowd around them was either giving the pair a wide berth or Jemma just stopped noticing them. With Daisy’s intense eyes so close, Jemma had no temptation to look at her feet. She followed Daisy’s lead with a practiced ease. Every spin and step felt effortless. Daisy even braved a few low dips that made Jemma’s stomach lurch.

  
All too soon, the song ended and she was pressed up against Daisy’s chest. Daisy grinned at her.

  
“Not so bad, right?”

  
Jemma shook her head, soundlessly. The room still felt like it was spinning and Jemma couldn’t be sure if it was from the alcohol, the twirling dance moves, or just Daisy’s proximity. A deep bass started pulsing through the speakers in sharp contrast to the previous song.   
Daisy stepped away slightly and moved into position like she was teaching Jemma a dance in their classroom and gestured for Jemma to copy her movements.

  
She walked Jemma through some simple moves more suitable for the club dance floor than a studio, but now that Jemma was out here, the music started to take over. She let her hips sway loosely with the beat and followed along with Daisy’s wordless guiding through the whole song and then started adapting it to her own style.

  
Occasionally a ghost of a touch from a stranger would trail across Jemma’s hips or down her arms, but Daisy was clearly keeping an eye on Jemma, because she would tug Jemma away each time. They returned to the bar a few times for breaks and to get more drinks, but they always headed back to the floor, frequently with Jemma pulling Daisy by the hand.

  
Jemma lost track of time as the room and flashing lights began to blur together. Daisy was just as in focus as ever, as she twirled around the now almost empty dance floor. Trip finally made the last call announcement and the lights were turned on, making Jemma groan loudly as an arm guided her out of the bar and into the cool night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I keep forgetting that I need to work on this story.   
> Btw, I'm totally making a playlist for this fic once I finish it. I wouldn't wanna spoil anything :P  
> (If anyone really wants to know, Daisy's song according to Trip is Earthquake by Labrinth. There's a really good fanvid on youtube to that song).  
> Fun fact: A Blow Job is a real shot. I don't know what's in it, but it's topped with whipped cream and you have to take it without using your hands.   
> I may have a headcannon that Daisy, in this universe, only gets drinks with dirty-sounding names, no matter how sugary or terrible they are. Just roll with it.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Jemma was aware of as she was dragged into consciousness was the dreadful pounding in her skull. She felt more than heard the pained groan escape her throat as she wished for nothing more than to slip back into sleep until the hangover passed. No such luck.

  
The next thing she was aware of was that she was not in her bed. Not the first time that had happened after a long night out involving alcohol, but it was still unpleasant. The pillow she had pulled over her face at some point was far too plush and squishy to be from her bed and she was starting to sweat from the multiple thick blankets draped over her.

  
Whatever detergent was used to wash these sheets was also clearly not hers. It smelled like springtime and flowers and unmistakably like…. _DAISY????_

  
Jemma’s eyes shot open, pulsing headache momentarily forgotten. She had to be imagining things. She thought back to the night before, and tried to piece together everything.

  
She remembered drooling over Daisy from a distance while she danced with all the random guys in the club. Then, she remembered getting dragged onto the floor herself for a few dances, while pressed far too close to Daisy in the already stuffy room. A few more drinks sliding across the bar towards her. Then, things started getting fuzzy. Did she dance with someone other than Daisy? Maybe.

  
At some point, Daisy slid some colorful, fruity concoction into Jemma’s hands and stood so close Jemma could see her pupils dilate in the darkness of the club while she described the contents of the drink. The last thing she remembered was Daisy leading her out of the club by the arm and both of them stumbling a bit down the road.

  
Oh no.

  
Jemma cautiously removed the pillow from her eyes. The small cluster of dance trophies piled in the corner of the room and a framed picture of Daisy and May standing outside the studio confirmed Jemma’s suspicions that she was in Daisy’s bed.

  
_Oh no._

  
Jemma steeled herself before slowly reaching an arm to the opposite side of the bed. Luckily, she didn’t land on another body and the sheets were cold. Just to confirm, Jemma rolled over. The bed was empty and it didn’t look like the other side had been occupied.   
Jemma breathed out harshly in relief. At least she didn’t screw up that badly while intoxicated. She still wasn’t happy that she couldn’t remember parts of the evening; she had no idea what kind of stupid things she could have said to Daisy.

  
Now that the moment of panic had passed, Jemma’s hangover came back full force. Not only was the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains practically burning Jemma’s eyes, she was suddenly aware of her stomach roiling. Probably the fault of the sugary cocktail Daisy had gotten her, mixed with her gin and tonics.

  
The chirping tone of her phone from somewhere across the room jabbed through her skull, despite it being set to low volume. Jemma groaned and rolled out of the bed to track it down. She found her shoes and duffle bag haphazardly strewn across the floor and dug through the bag for her phone.

  
Somehow, her phone had ended up in one of Jemma’s shoes (what on earth was she thinking when she was drunk?). The chirp was a reminder that she had a brunch date with Bobbi today. In about an hour to be precise.

  
Jemma grumbled to herself and started to gather her things. Would it be rude to sneak out? She didn’t know if she could deal with a conversation with Daisy right now.

  
Jemma tiptoed out of the bedroom, trying to figure out which way the front door was in the apartment. Eventually, she found the living room.

  
The back of a well-worn couch faced Jemma as she crept out of the hallway. A pair of legs were draped over one arm of the couch and soft snoring drifted from that direction, so Jemma didn’t have to guess where Daisy was anymore.

  
From here, Jemma could see the front door and she sidled around the couch to reach it. Unfortunately, her foot found a particularly squeaky floorboard which let out a loud _creeeeaak_ as she put her weight on it.

  
Daisy sat up ramrod straight on the couch, still looking a bit bleary-eyed.

  
“Wha— Whozzere?” she grumbled, before her eyes found Jemma.

  
God, she was still beautiful when she had just woken up. Her hair was mussed up and sticking out in every direction and her makeup was smudged from last night, but the sight of her still made Jemma’s heart skip a beat. Jemma silently berated the tiny voice in her head that thought it would be nice to wake up to that sight every morning. God, she had it bad.

  
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jemma whispered. She didn’t know if Daisy’s hangover was as bad as her own, so she would be considerate just in case.

  
Daisy’s brow furrowed and she ran a hand through her hair, taming it slightly. “Oh, you’re leaving? I was gonna make pancakes.”

  
Jemma’s heart clenched at the disappointment in her tone. The idea of morning-after pancakes with Daisy was very tempting.

  
The thought of canceling on Bobbi for brunch barely flitted through Jemma’s mind when an unbidden memory of Jemma shamelessly draped over Daisy and rambling nonsense into her ear while they swayed to a sultry song slithered into her consciousness. Jemma felt her face flush. She really hoped that Daisy had some gaps in her memory as well.

  
“Oh, um. Sorry, I’m supposed to be meeting Bobbi for a...thing. I really should, um, go,” Jemma stuttered out, edging her way towards the door.

  
“O-Ok. Do you want me to drive you home?” Daisy offered.

  
“No, no that’s quite alright. You’ve already been very hospitable. I can find my way well enough,” Jemma rambled. Honestly, she had no clue where Daisy even lived, so she hoped she could get a cab. She was far too embarrassed about her shenanigans last night to spend any more time in Daisy’s presence today.

  
Daisy started to say something else, but Jemma was already out the door and halfway down the hall.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Jemma didn’t care that she was inside and probably looked like a jerk; she was going to wear her sunglasses all day and she pitied the person who tried to tell her not to. They were dark enough to block out most of the searing florescent light of the cafe, which was helpful because Jemma still felt like someone was shaking a bag of hammers in her skull.

  
Bobbi slid into the seat opposite her with a plate loaded up with bacon and eggs. The metallic scrape of her chair against the floor made Jemma flinch.

  
“So, you had fun last night with your dance teacher?” Bobbi asked with a teasing lilt in her voice. The only response Jemma could muster was a low grunt as she glared into her coffee cup. Bobbi chuckled at her lack of response.

  
“Oh right, you didn’t have ‘fun’ with her, you just got blackout drunk and ended up in her bed.”

  
Jemma glared at Bobbi, which Bobbi of course couldn’t see through Jemma’s dark sunglasses. Bobbi had nearly fallen out of her chair in shock when Jemma's first words to her were 'I went home with Daisy last night' and she hadn't let Jemma live the poor phrasing down. 

  
“Did you confess your giant crush on her or something?” Bobbi prodded.

  
Jemma groaned. “God, I hope not.”

  
“I feel like that’s something she would bring up the next morning.”

  
“I didn’t really give her a chance to,” Jemma grumbled.

  
“What?”

  
“I sort of just...ran,” Jemma admitted sheepishly.

  
Bobbi tsked at her. “Jemma Simmons, that is not how you impress a lady. Did you kiss her last night?”

  
“ _God_ , I hope not.” 

 

“Why not?”

  
“Because I’d want to remember that!” Jemma hissed.

  
Bobbi grinned. “Aw, you romantic.”

  
Jemma just glared again, not caring about the futility of the action.

  
“Have you invited her to the wedding yet?” Bobbi asked.

  
Jemma cocked an eyebrow at her. “Was I supposed to?”

  
Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, duh. You’ve got to have someone to try out those dance moves with. Plus, it’s a good excuse for a first date.”

  
“Won’t that be weird for you? With your...history,” Jemma wondered, mostly just trying to find an excuse to not invite Daisy. Not that she didn’t want to; she just didn’t know if she had the guts to bring it up.

  
“No, we parted on good terms. I wouldn’t have recommended you to her if we hadn’t,” Bobbi reasoned, “So, are you going to ask her?”

  
Jemma groaned again. “I don’t know. After last night….”

  
“Trust me, Jemma. I’ve seen you drunk. It’s endearing, rather than alienating,” Bobbi replied, “If anything, she probably thought your clingy stumbling was cute. So, you should definitely ask her.”

  
Jemma throwing a sugar packet at her did nothing to diminish Bobbi’s smirk.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
For some reason, the simple brick walls of the dance studio looked much more imposing today. Jemma tried not to think about the conversation she would have to have in a few moments as she gulped and pushed through the doors. Even though it had been four days since she had last spoken to Daisy (other than a quick text to confirm their lesson), the embarrassment from the Friday before still burned fresh in Jemma’s mind.

  
Jemma strode towards their regular room near the back of the studio, attempting not to make eye contact with anyone in case Daisy blabbed about how obnoxious Jemma was when drunk.

  
Daisy was, thankfully, alone when Jemma made it to the room. Her back was to Jemma and her feet tapped out a simple combination while playing on her phone, her shoes clicking loudly on the floor with each step.

  
Jemma smirked and tossed her bag on the floor, causing Daisy to flinch violently and spin around. If it wasn’t for Daisy’s violent reaction, Jemma would have been too distracted by the rhinestone encrusted bra covered by a buttoned up suit jacket that Daisy was wearing to speak.

  
“Oh,” Daisy breathed out in apparent relief, “It’s you. You’re early.”

  
Jemma frowned slightly. “Yes, I got off work earlier than normal. Were you expecting someone else?”

  
“Well, kind of,” Daisy muttered. Daisy took Jemma’s lack of response as a cue to elaborate. “Ward’s been extra creepy lately. Like, hanging-out-at-the-coffee-shop-down-the-block-from-my-place-when-I-know-that-he-lives-across-town creepy. I thought you were him for a second.”

  
“That’s awful,” Jemma replied. “You should really call someone if he’s making you that uncomfortable.”

  
Daisy shrugged the suggestion off. “It’s fine. I can deal with him myself.”

  
“But you don’t have to.”

  
Daisy’s eyes met Jemma’s and she smiled gently. “I know. Thanks, though. I’ll get it taken care of.”

  
Jemma eyed her in disbelief for a moment, but dropped it, hoping that meant Daisy was going to take her advice. The fact that Ward was still creeping around making Daisy so jumpy and nervous made Jemma livid.

  
Now that that situation was addressed, Jemma’s attention was pulled completely to Daisy’s outfit. The suit jacket and pants were perfectly tailored to her body and were lined at the seams with rows of rhinestones. The purple, glittery bra underneath provided a splash of color to contrast the black of the suit.

  
Daisy followed her gaze and smirked. “Sorry, we were having a dress rehearsal for our tap number and we ran a little late. I didn’t think I’d have time to change.”

  
“I hardly noticed a difference,” Jemma teased.

  
“It makes me look pretty dapper, doesn’t it?” Daisy joked, spinning around to show off every angle of her costume with a cocky smirk. Jemma rolled her eyes, completely unwilling to admit that she was enjoying the view.

  
Once Daisy finished posing, she clapped her hands together. “So, last lesson, right? Since the wedding’s this weekend. Anything in particular you want to work on?”

  
Jemma knew it was her last lesson when she came in, but that didn’t stop the pang in her chest at the thought. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the foxtrot?”

  
“Let’s do it!”

  
Daisy trotted over to the stereo, toes clicking against the floor. She plugged in her phone and scrolled through with one hand, while tugging off her tap shoes with the other and tossing them in a corner. Once she decided on a song, she jogged over to her bag, pulled on her typical dance shoes, and met Jemma in the center of the room.

  
Daisy placed one hand on Jemma’s waist, slid the other into Jemma’s hand, and pulled her so they were chest to chest. Once she started moving in time with the song, Jemma echoed her steps as naturally as breathing.

  
Jemma had already mastered the foxtrot weeks ago, so they easily slid through the steps. Every spin and turn Daisy led them through was executed with more grace than Jemma thought herself capable of, but at this point felt effortless.

  
Jemma could see that Daisy was beaming at her, but she was having a difficult time looking Daisy in the eye still.

  
“You’re looking at your feet again,” Daisy scolded lightly. “Is there something on my face?”

  
“What? No, your face is lovely— I mean, there’s nothing…sorry,” Jemma muttered, feeling her face flush.

  
Daisy chuckled. “Okay.”

  
Daisy twirled Jemma out and back in and then spun her down into a low dip. When she pulled Jemma back to her feet, she was softly humming along with the song’s lyrics and the smirk from before had slid off her face.

  
“So, uh,” Daisy started hesitantly, “I hope Friday night didn’t make things awkward. I mean, me bringing you back to my place. I didn’t know where you lived and you refused tell me so I couldn’t grab a cab.”

  
Jemma winced. “I’m sorry about that. That was just…terrible. I’m awful when I’m drunk”

  
“Well, I had fun,” Daisy chuckled. “It was actually pretty cute.”

  
Jemma’s cheeks heated up again. She was starting to resent that Daisy could affect her so easily. The corners of her mouth twitched up into a small smile. “I had fun too. I just hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing.”

  
Daisy laughed loudly. “Nothing too bad. Although, we did talk extensively about a stuffed unicorn with a weird name that you left on a train when you were six.”

  
“How on earth did Marie Curie come up in conversation in a club?” Jemma groaned.

  
“I don’t remember, but I am determined to find that unicorn and return her to you,” Daisy teased. Jemma chuckled and the pair lapsed into comfortable silence.

  
Daisy led the way through every variation of dance that she had taught Jemma over the last few weeks, making sure Jemma remembered all the steps. A few of the more complicated moves, Jemma was still shaky on, but she tried her best to get through them.

  
After an hour and a half, Daisy deemed her ‘ready to blow everyone away’ at the wedding and dropped her hands from her hold on Jemma. As Daisy headed over to the stereo to turn off the music, Jemma took a deep breath.

  
“Daisy, I was thinking. I mean, I know it’s a bit last minute, but I was wondering if you’re available, well, if you’re not otherwise engaged—I mean you probably have something else to—” Jemma rambled, cutting herself off when she noticed the confused look she was getting from Daisy. Jemma growled at herself for her lack of social grace.

  
“Bobbi marked me down for bringing a plus one to the wedding and I was wondering if you’d like to go. With me,” Jemma finished.

  
Daisy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh. Well, actually—”

  
“It’s fine, I understand. No big deal. You’re probably very busy and it’s probably much too short of notice—”

  
“Hey, no, that’s not it,” Daisy interrupted, stepping closer to Jemma to stop her babbling. “I was going to say I got my own invitation to the wedding, but I’d rather be your plus one.”

  
Jemma blinked owlishly at her. “I’m sorry?”

  
Daisy snorted. “Well, technically, it’s an e-vite,” She wiggled her phone in the air. “I got the email this morning, with a note from Bobbi that said, ‘tell Jemma I’m ashamed of her’ whatever that means.”

  
Jemma rolled her eyes. Of course Bobbi didn’t trust her to go through with it. Jokes on her.

  
“So, you’ll come?”

  
Daisy beamed. “Absolutely! We can show up all the other bridesmaids with our amazing dance skills.”

  
“I look forward to it,” Jemma replied with a chuckle. “Don’t forget, we’re supposed to tango better than Bobbi and Hunter.”

  
“We can do that in our sleep.” Daisy winked. “So, I’ll see you on Saturday, then?”

  
Jemma nodded, grabbed her things, and slipped out of the room, feeling lighter than she had in days. She couldn’t resist a small twirl once she reached the sidewalk outside the studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Jemma finally made a move!...sorta. Up next: The Wedding!


	6. Chapter 6

Jemma woke up to sweltering heat. She cracked an eye open and peered over her shoulder. Bobbi was curled completely around Jemma’s body with her face tucked into Jemma’s hair and an arm draped over her waist. Jemma sighed and tried to extract herself before she sweated to death. Bobbi felt like a furnace strapped to her back. 

Jemma tiptoed into the bathroom of Bobbi’s apartment to start getting ready for the big day before the rest of the bridesmaids woke up. She had to pick her way through a pile of sleeping bodies scattered across the floor first. 

Jemma and Bobbi had been lucky enough to get the actual bed for the 'bachelorette party sleepover' Jemma had planned (Bobbi cited 'Bride and Maid of Honor privileges') leaving the rest of the Bobbi’s side of the wedding party to scramble for the remaining furniture and spots on the floor. 

Jemma finally reached the bathroom and turned on the shower. On the upside, Bobbi had been adamant about having a low-key bachelorette party this time, so Jemma actually felt well rested and coherent this morning. For her first marriage, Bobbi had eloped to Vegas, toting Jemma and two of her closest friends, and decided to gamble and get strippers for her bachelorette party. That led to a whole host of drunken shenanigans that caused a major rift between Bobbi and her first husband, along with leaving them all hungover and exhausted on the day of the actual wedding.

Last night, was a relaxing night of getting pedicures and massages and then having a Star Wars marathon while drinking wine at Bobbi’s place (while Jemma desperately tried not to think about the Darth Vader stripper Bobbi had gotten a lap dance from at the last bachelorette party). Also, Bobbi and the other bridesmaids, mostly Bobbi’s college friends and other coworkers, banded together to tease Jemma all night about 'her sexy dance teacher' who kept texting Jemma questions about wedding etiquette and apologizing for interrupting their evening. If Jemma could have controlled the smile that crept across her face every time her phone lit up, she wouldn’t have had to deal with it, but she couldn’t.  

Jemma finished showering and wrapped her hair in a towel as she started to hear movement from outside the door. 

The rest of the morning was a flurry of activity. The makeup artist and hairdresser showed up right on schedule and Jemma ensured that they had the reference images Bobbi had requested before they got to work. Once everyone had claimed their space in line for hair and makeup, Jemma slipped around the apartment, gathering up everything they would need before heading to the ceremony. 

Eventually, though, Jemma was dragged into a chair to have her hair pulled and curled into the elaborate style that Bobbi had picked out weeks ago, before having her face attacked by the makeup artist, wriggling into her cerulean dress, and helping Bobbi into her own dress. 

Once everyone passed Bobbi’s inspection, they piled into the limousine and headed to the location of the ceremony. 

The weather was gorgeous, thankfully, since Bobbi had insisted on an outdoor wedding. The road the limo took circled around the wide, clear lake the ceremony would be held beside, letting them peek at the set up before they processed in. Even though Jemma had helped pick the decorations and they had been to the gazebo a week before for the rehearsal, Jemma was still blown away by how stunning the location was. 

The wooden gazebo perched right on the lake’s shore that Bobbi had instantly fallen in love with was now covered in light blue and white flowers with gold ribbons woven between them and trailing down the sides. Rows of white chairs dotted the lawn, also capped with small bouquets of blue and gold, with a long, pristine white aisle running between them. The sun glistened off the lake, bathing everything in warm golden light. The guests were all standing behind the chairs in small groups, but slowly trickled into the rows as they noticed the limo pulling around. 

The limo stopped in front of a plain brick building that blocked them from view of the wedding guests momentarily. Jemma hopped out the moment the driver shifted into park to make sure the wedding planner knew they were there and could come direct them where to line up. Jemma briefly saw Hunter, fidgeting by the door in his tux, looking far more dapper than Jemma had ever seen him, before he was directed down the aisle when the music started. 

Once he was clear of the building, Jemma went back to retrieve Bobbi and the bridesmaids from the limo. The wedding planner matched them up with the groomsmen and lined them up in the order they would process in. Jemma slipped out of the line while the planner was busy wrangling the best man to help Bobbi fluff her skirt and make sure everything was in order. 

“Ready?” Jemma asked her. 

“As I’ll ever be,” Bobbi replied, suddenly looking slightly nervous. 

“Well, you look radiant,” Jemma assured. 

“Do you think Hunter will cry?”

“For his sake, I hope so.” 

Jemma was yanked back into line by the wedding planner before she could say anything else. A bouquet was shoved into her hands and she looped her arm into the best man’s elbow as they were guided towards the door. She didn’t know the best man very well; she had only met him a handful of times and knew he went by 'Idaho,' but she doubted that was his real name. He smiled gently at her and led the way as they began their slow march down the aisle. 

Jemma tried to keep her eyes fixed on the end of the aisle, where she saw Hunter and the minister waiting, but her attention kept drifting to the crowd. She recognized Bobbi’s mother on the left of the aisle, as they had processed in at the beginning; Mrs. Morse was already a complete blubbering mess, since this was the first time she was seeing her daughter get married. A few of the other guests looked familiar from past events (including, surprisingly, the bartender from the club Daisy had dragged her to) and the rest were likely extended family Jemma had yet to meet.

And then Jemma’s eyes found Daisy. She looked gorgeous. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate braid which was coiled and pinned around her head with a few long, curled tendrils hanging loose in the front. She was wearing makeup for the first time that Jemma could remember that brought out the brown in her eyes, which Jemma could see even from where she was standing. Or maybe she was just staring harder than the average passerby. 

This was all eclipsed by the curve-hugging, fuchsia dress Daisy was wearing, which flared out into a flowy skirt that fluttered around her legs. It looked like the kind of dress that would twirl out in a perfect circle if the wearer started spinning. Even when formally dressed for a wedding, Daisy came prepared to dance. 

When Daisy caught Jemma’s eyes, her eyes widened and a shy smile crept across her face. She gave Jemma a small wave and a wink. Jemma reciprocated with a slight wiggle of the fingers wrapped around the blue and gold bouquet.

Because of her ogling, Jemma hardly noticed they had reached the gazebo. She released Idaho’s arm and strode over to the line of bridesmaids and took her place closest to the minister and the small alter they had set up. 

The swell of the music announced Bobbi’s entrance. The doors to the building with the changing rooms were dramatically flung open as Bobbi stepped into the sun, one armed looped through her father’s arm. The guests all rose and faced the back while Bobbi strode rhythmically up the aisle, beaming toward the gazebo. 

Jemma glanced over to Hunter who, as predicted, was misty eyed though he tried to discreetly brush it away. Bobbi’s mother was full-on weeping so loudly it almost drowned out the music. 

Jemma hadn’t been lying when she said Bobbi looked radiant. In the afternoon sun, Bobbi’s blonde hair and white dress gave her an almost angelic glow. Let’s see Hunter call her a hellbeast now. Her father marched along beside her, gripping her arm tightly and looked like he was trying not to cry as well. 

Once they reached the end of the aisle, Hunter stepped forward and extended a hand to Bobbi’s father. Mr. Morse reached out to take it, before thinking better of it and pulled Hunter in for a tight bear hug. Bobbi rolled her eyes, but smiled at the interaction. After he was released, Hunter took Bobbi’s hand and led her up to the alter. 

The ceremony went smoothly, since every second of it had been planned and practiced repetitively. Jemma tuned out most of the minister’s words in favor of peering at Daisy whenever she could. Daisy’s gaze flickered between Bobbi and Hunter and Jemma, as well. When they would catch each other staring, Daisy would waggle her eyebrows or make a face in an attempt to make Jemma laugh, which she almost did a few times. 

On her cue, Jemma stepped forward to hand Bobbi the ring and then slid back into her place. Daisy gave an emphatic thumbs up and mouthed 'good job' at her from her seat, to which Jemma responded by rolling her eyes. 

A round of applause and whoops went up from both sides of the aisle the moment the minister said, “I now pronounce you…” Bobbi and Hunter led the recession down the aisle and Jemma and the rest of the wedding party trailed after in reverse order. 

They crowded around for hugs and congratulations at the end of the row of chairs as everyone filed out of their seats to greet the new couple. Most of the attention was on Bobbi and Hunter now, so Jemma stood by their side and fielded questions from the photographer and wedding planner. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Jemma noticed Daisy sidle around the crowd of family members and saunter over to Jemma. 

“Excellent work with the passing of the rings,” Daisy teased, “That took real skills.”

“It did take quite a lot of practice,” Jemma retorted, with a smirk. 

Daisy grinned. “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” Jemma replied, hoping the makeup would hide her blush. “You look very nice as well. I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything other than dance clothes.”

“Everything can be dance clothes if you try hard enough,” Daisy pointed out with a wink. She took a step closer to Jemma and glanced toward the ground before bringing her eyes up to meet Jemma’s. “So, I’ve been meaning to talk to you—”

Jemma’s heart lurched, both from Daisy’s words and from the sudden tug on her arm. 

“Jemma, pictures!” Bobbi announced, pulling Jemma toward the limo. 

“Can it wait two minutes?” Jemma snapped, exasperatedly. 

“We only have a few good hours of daylight left. The photographer says we have to go now,” Bobbi replied, hoisting up the front of her dress so she could pull Jemma along faster. 

Jemma groaned. “I’ll, uh, see you at the reception?” Jemma called back to Daisy. 

Daisy looked a bit stunned by the turn of events, but muttered a quick, “Yeah, of course.” 

Once everyone was crammed into the limo, Jemma frowned in Bobbi’s direction. 

Bobbi took awhile to notice, since she was too busy nuzzling up to Hunter (as close as she could get, anyway, with all the layers of tulle in the way). 

“What?” she wondered when she finally noticed Jemma’s glare. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Sort of, yes!” Jemma retorted. 

“Relax, you’ll have tons of time to flirt at the reception.” Bobbi waved her off.

Jemma rolled her eyes and glanced out the window until they got to their destination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After bouncing around locations in Bobbi’s favorite park, taking hundreds of pictures, and an impromptu picnic of McDonald’s (courtesy of Hunter, who had brilliantly prepared for Bobbi’s hangry stage), the wedding party was finally on their way to the reception venue. 

The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon by the time they arrived, but it was still high enough to stream into the wide windows of the penthouse ballroom they had reserved, flashing off the gold in the decorations and bathing everything in gold. 

The rest of the guests were already in their assigned seats and rose to applaud Bobbi and Hunter as they entered and took their place at the high table. Jemma and the rest of the wedding party slipped in after them. Jemma had barely settled in her seat beside Bobbi when her eyes locked on Daisy, who was sitting at a table with Mack and a few other acquaintances of Bobbi’s, looking as breathtaking as she had at the ceremony. 

The rest of the formalities passed in a blur. The dinner, the toasts (which Jemma somehow got through effortlessly), the cake cutting. All came and went with movie-like efficiency. Following, there was a brief reprieve from the ritual aspects of the wedding to allow the guests, especially the bride and groom, to socialize and relax. Just being a bridesmaid, Jemma didn’t have to hit every table to make sure all the guests had some time with the bride, like Bobbi did. Jemma only had one person she wanted to talk to. 

Once the low hum of conversation started up, Jemma slid away from the high table to where Daisy was sitting, laughing raucously at whatever Mack had said. 

Daisy’s eyes landed on Jemma and her face lit up. She hopped out of her seat and grabbed an extra chair for Jemma. 

“Hey!” she greeted. “Relieved of Maid of Honor duties?”

“For now,” Jemma replied, sinking into the offered chair. She gave a quick greeting to Mack and the rest of the people at the table she knew and made casual conversation. She tried not to blush under Daisy’s constant staring, despite wanting to stare right back. 

Then, the announcement was made that it was time for the bride and groom’s first dance. 

Bobbi and Hunter walked hand in hand to the center of the dance floor as the slow ballad started to play over the speakers. They slid into a slow, simple waltz gently twirling around the open space, seeming lost in each other’s eyes. Bobbi’s wide grin was contagious and infected everyone in the within range of the dance floor. For someone who had supposedly failed his dance lessons, Hunter seemed to be keeping up with the waltz rather well. 

Slowly, the bridesmaids and groomsmen grabbed their dates and trickled onto the floor, after letting Bobbi and Hunter have their solo dance for most of the song. Jemma took this as her cue and hopped up and extended a hand to Daisy.

“May I have this dance?” she asked, somewhat rhetorically. 

Daisy’s lips broke into a wide smile as she took Jemma’s offered hand and followed her onto the dance floor. They easily maneuvered into the now-familiar position and stepped into motion on the beat. 

Even though this was just like every other time they had practiced the waltz, Jemma couldn’t help feeling like something was different this time. Maybe it was the fact that she was in uncomfortable heels and a dress she couldn’t move easily in. Maybe it was the fact that, instead of being in a brightly lit, open dance studio, they were in a ritzy, low-lit ballroom. Maybe it was the fact that Daisy’s heavy-lidded eyes hadn’t left Jemma’s since they started moving. 

Maybe it was the fact that some force seemed to be pushing Jemma to lean in closer with every step. 

Regardless, Jemma couldn’t fight the contented smile that refused to leave her lips. Her best friend was now happily married and swaying to the music nearby, everyone was celebrating and enjoying themselves, and she was pressed up against a beautiful girl who she desperately wanted to kiss. 

Before the night was out, Jemma promised herself that she would. 

The music swelled and Daisy spun Jemma out for a dramatic twirl, making sure to pull her back in before another couple waltzed into her. Daisy whipped out some of the fancier spins and steps that they had briefly practiced, throwing a wink to Bobbi who had paused to look their way. 

Jemma hardly noticed herself moving through the complex moves, her eyes solely fixed on Daisy. 

The music quieted. Daisy paused their spinning to reach forward and brush a piece of hair of Jemma’s hair behind her ear. Jemma rose to her tiptoes and leaned in to Daisy’s touch. 

Daisy started to move in to meet her when she froze, eyes flickering to somewhere behind Jemma, and cursed under her breath. 

“I, uh—Sorry, I have to go…take care of something really quick,” Daisy muttered and darted off the floor disappearing into the crowd. The slow song faded into something much more upbeat.

Jemma growled and grabbed a champagne flute off a passing waiter’s tray. Normally, she wouldn't be one to fall into this line of thinking, but the universe was _definitely_ working against her today. 

Jemma shuffled off the dance floor and slumped into a free chair at an empty table and sipped her champagne. 

A few moments later, Bobbi flopped into one next to her, her dress letting out a loud _poof_ as she sat.  

“Hey,” she huffed, clearly out of breath from the dancing. “Where’s your date?”

Jemma shrugged. “She said she had to take care of something and ran away.”

“Your regular seduction techniques not working then?”

Jemma shot her a glare but didn’t justify that with a response. 

“Wanna use my bride privileges to request a song?” Bobbi asked, waving a few blank pieces of paper. 

Jemma wrinkled her nose, but snatched one of the papers, scribbled the name of a song on it and handed it back to Bobbi. Bobbi smirked and hopped up to run the slip of paper to the DJ. 

Bobbi pushed her way back through the crowd dancing crowd when she was done, which was a feat due to the volume of her dress. “There, DJ said he’s playing it next. Super cheesy song choice, but Daisy’s totally into that sort— wait, who that hell is _that?_ ”

Jemma glanced to where Bobbi’s glare was directed and her blood boiled. 

It was Ward. He was standing just outside the glass doors to the ballroom, talking intensely with someone. Jemma didn’t even have to look to know it was Daisy. Daisy stood as far back from him as the narrow hallway allowed and seemed to be yelling while she gestured wildly. 

She swore she saw red when Ward tried to reach out to grab her. 

Apparently, Bobbi was of the same mindset. 

“Oh, _hell_ no,” she growled. “Open bar is for invited guests only and I will _not_ have any wedding crashers.”

Bobbi started to hoist up the front of her dress and march over when Jemma hopped up and blocked her path. 

“Actually, I’ll go if you don’t mind. Would you mind requesting another song for me?” Jemma asked. 

Bobbi’s face said she would rather rip Ward in half with her bare hands than do anything else currently. Jemma continued to block her path until she huffed out an angry sigh and held out a hand for the request slip. Jemma quickly scratched down another song, since Daisy’s “favorite song of all time” that Jemma had requested was already half over, and slapped it into Bobbi’s hand.

Bobbi glanced down at the song and snorted a laugh. 

“What?” Jemma defended. “You said she likes cheesy.”

“This is definitely cheesy,” Bobbi said. “Make sure _he_ knows that if he stays in my line of vision for more than the five seconds it takes to leave the building, one of these heels is going to end up so far up his ass—”

“Noted!” Jemma replied, already marching over to the doors with a few choice words of her own in mind. 

Ward and Daisy were both so engrossed in their conversation that neither noticed Jemma coming towards them until she wrenched open the door. 

“Excuse me, I need to steal my date back,” Jemma said as pleasantly as she could. She quickly checked Daisy’s face to make sure she wasn’t dragging her away against her will. Daisy looked entirely relieved to see her and moved to head back into the ballroom.

Ward grabbed her by the shoulder, halting Daisy’s escape. “Actually, we’re still talking, so if you could excuse _us_ —”

“I think _you’ve_ talked enough,” Jemma snapped, shoving Ward’s grimy hand off Daisy and stepping between them. “And I’ll advise you that there is a wedding going on and the bride _really_ doesn’t like uninvited guests. For your own safety, I suggest you leave before she finds you and I let her rearrange your face.” 

Ward glared and her and Jemma scowled back with so much intensity, she was surprised (and disappointed) that he didn’t burst into flames on the spot. He finally took the hint and slowly stalked towards the exit. 

“Oh, and Ward?” Daisy called after him. He turned to look at her with a small glimmer of hope on his face. “You’re no longer welcome at my dance studio.”

Mic. Drop. The half devastated-half livid expression on Ward’s face made Jemma’s day. As much as she wanted to stand there and watch him slink home with his tail between his legs, she had a cheesy song to catch. 

Jemma reached for Daisy’s hand and guided her back into the noisy ballroom. “Glad I could pull you away for a minute. I was hoping we could have another dance,” Jemma said. 

Daisy grinned and followed after her until they reached the dance floor. Then she realized what song was playing. 

“Is this Avril Lavigne? I haven’t heard this song since high school,” Daisy commented. 

Jemma tried not to look too embarrassed. She really hoped her gesture worked though. “I may have requested it.”

The words to 'Girlfriend' blared over the speakers and Jemma had the sneaky suspicion Bobbi had made the DJ turn it even louder for her. She glanced over to find Bobbi happily swing dancing (sort of) with Hunter to the peppy song. Bobbi stopped long enough to throw Jemma a thumbs up and went back to her husband. 

Jemma’s attention was pulled back to her date by warm hands on either side of her face. She barely managed to turn her head, when soft lips were pressed up against her own. Jemma’s mind screamed a happy 'No way!' in time with the song and she eagerly kissed Daisy back.

Daisy smiled against her lips. Jemma slid her arms around Daisy’s neck and wrapped her in tight. Her chest felt like it was about to explode she was so happy. Even with the cheesy Avril Lavigne sound blaring overhead, Jemma wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I;m sorry this took so damn long. I thought this chapter was going to be the easy one but no such luck. Ugh. Well, here's basically the end! I've got a quickie epilogue in mind that I'll work on, but other than that, this is the end of this AU. Thanks for riding along!  
> Edit: Playlist is now up for anyone interested: http://8tracks.com/sadtrashhobo/step-up-or-step-out

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for dancing. I can't help it. And I needed some fluff to balance out the sad stuff I've been writing so here's the first chapter! Enjoy!  
> Oh ad check out my writing tumblr: sad-trash-writing


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